


Not One, But Both.

by Countryole



Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Eclaris, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Countryole/pseuds/Countryole
Summary: "Life had never afforded her any special considerations, no free passes or basic human decency need apply. She had learned, over time, that you had two choices to pick from on any given day. On bad days you managed to survive, and it was on the rare good days you might actually get a chance to live." Lorna and Marcos talk, amongst other things, after she returns home.





	Not One, But Both.

Life had never afforded her any special considerations, no free passes or basic human decency need apply. She had learned, over time, that you had two choices to pick from on any given day. On bad days you managed to survive, and it was on the rare good days you might actually get a chance to live.

Lorna was living now. More accurately she was _alive_.

After days in a dark, dank prison cell, the easy glow of the candle light in the bathroom was warm and welcome, cozy even. Every deep breath she took was mirrored by the man behind her, a synchronized rise and fall of lungs inside rib cages, and she leaned back further, her head against his chest. 

Marcos sighed, she could feel him shift closer, dipping his head down to place his lips against the top of her head. She trailed her fingers through the water of the worn clawfoot bathtub. He trailed his across her skin, tracing patterns, creating a map that followed the marks left behind by her handful of days in hell. 

_“I’ll kill them.”_

It was one of the first things he said to her when they were finally alone, when he looked at her for the first time, stripped out of her clothes, naked and covered in bruises from the beatings, her skin burnt and red from the collar and the tasers. The other thing he said was, _“I love you.”_ He had said it so many times, between hungry, desperate kisses, that she lost count. He had said it as he carried her to their bed, enveloped in nothing but his arms and the glow of the aurora lights only he could give her.

“Can you make it a little warmer?” Lorna asked, running her feet along the bottom of the tub, and then along his legs. Marcos considered her request with a boyish grin. 

“I’m sure I can,” His hands slid into the water, trailing from her knees and up her thighs, and his lips found her neck, teeth nibbling at sensitive skin, his hips shifting just so slightly…

“That’s _not_ what I meant,” Lorna feigned exasperation, letting out a sharp breath when his hands stopped just short of where she wanted them to, and abruptly pulled away much to her disappointment.

“Liar,” Marcos chuckled, unfazed by the dark look on her face, and seconds later the water was illuminated by the golden glow of light that poured from the palms of his hands. The radiant heat that followed made the ache in her bones and body fade, but something else replaced it, a different ache in her chest that she hadn’t been able to shake. She reached for Marcos’ hands as the light faded from them, and she pulled them to her chest, making a shield out of his arms. 

Lorna examined each finger, threading each of her own through his. The aurora lights flickered in and out, swirling around their tangled limbs, casting a colorful glow on the water and their skin. Lorna pressed a kiss to each of his knuckles reverently. These hands had saved so many lives, including hers, countless times.

“I have to tell you something.”

Her voice echoed against the walls around them. It sounded strained, and she hated herself for it, the weakness it implied. Behind her Marcos became still, and she could feel him take a deep breath, steeling himself. She didn’t have to look at him to know his eyebrows would be knit in worry, his warm eyes flooded with concern, something he’d never been very good at hiding. He waited, saying nothing. He held her, and she focused on that, on the feel of his arms and his chest pressed to her back, grounding her to him. But the panic lingered at the periphery of her mind, a creature stalking through the dark of her thoughts.

Lorna had a well earned reputation for emotional outbursts of the dramatic and sometimes dangerous variety. She was impossible to be around as a teenager, her volatility making her time in the foster system no better than a game of Russian roulette. She had been mostly unbearable as a young adult; an improvement. Yet Marcos, with the patience of a saint, never shied away from her, not even in her ugliest, most hateful hours. In the three years they had been together, he had made her better. Because of him, she wanted to be better. Because of him, she learned that sometimes people stay. 

“Lorna,” her name is a soft murmur, followed by an alarmed, more insistent one, “ _Lorna_.”

She realized all too late that the sobs wracking her body weren’t the work of her fantastical imagination. She realized she could feel the tears, hot and wet and angry against her cheeks. She could feel her lungs screaming, weeks of anguish manifesting into unbidden wails, followed by desperate gasps for air. The metal objects within the vicinity shook, spun, the air heavy as the windows rattled and the empty overhead light fixtures shuddered above them. 

“ _I’m here_ ,” Marcos never let her go, “I’m right here.”

He held her as tight as he could without hurting her, as tight as he could to keep her from hurting herself. Lorna closed her eyes, trying not to remember the nightmarish memories from the part of her life she often tried to forget. The scars were on Lorna’s wrists, faint now, but there. It was proof that it had happened before—proof that she could be just as damaging to her own body as it was to the world around her.

Marcos whispered into her ear, calling her back to him, away from the place inside her head that made her worse. When she opened her eyes, her body shaking despite the warmth of the water, the aurora lights seemed to shatter and struggle in the air. They trembled as if they were in pain, spasming as if wounded. Slowly everything fell still, and slowly the lights faded and stabilized into a steady glow. All Lorna could feel was Marcos breathing, sure and steady against her, and all she could hear was her heartbeat pounding in her head. 

The silence that followed, that filled the air around her to the point of suffocation, was enough to drive her mad, and enough to drive her to speak.

“I didn’t know,” she choked out, throat tight, clutching his hands like an anchor, “I would have told you if I’d known, but I didn’t. I didn’t and then I was so _stupid,_ but when they shot you I was so _angry_ —”

“Lorna, baby—”

“I’m pregnant, Marcos” she shrank into him, her voice soft despite the unimaginable weight of the words, “I’m _pregnant_ , and I let them catch me. They had me locked in a cage like a fucking animal when they told me, and there was nothing I could do, _nothing_ , do you realize how awful that felt, to be trapped? And if you hadn’t come after me—”

“But I did come for you,” Marcos untangled his hands from hers, gently reaching for her face until she was forced to meet his eyes, trying to walk her away from the cliff she was preparing to throw herself off of, “and I always will, Lorna, _always_. You are the only thing that matters, and if I lost you—” Marcos paused, and something in the way he looked at her changed. It was as if the realization of her words had finally sank in, manifesting as real in his mind. He corrected himself. “If I had lost _both_ of you…” 

There was a quiet desperation in his voice, a fear in the depths of those warm eyes of things that almost were. It broke her to hear him like this, to think that he had contemplated—even for a moment—that the worst would happen. That he might have lost her. But there was hope shining there too. There was an unwavering devotion for her that never failed, but to hear him give that same devotion to an unborn child, to _their_ child, without questions or conditions, made her heart burst.

“I’m sorry,” Lorna reached for his hands again, bringing them back to her, begging forgiveness for her doubt in him, “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He replied, opening his hands for her to lace her fingers back through again. “There’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t forgive.”

“Nothing?” Lorna forced out a broken laugh. “You’re insane.”

“That’s a given, I am with you aren’t I?”

“Asshole,” the endearing nickname was muttered with love, and she pressed her lips to his hands again.

“I knew, you know,” Marcos added after a brief pause, watching for her reaction, grinning sheepishly, “I was just waiting for you to tell me.”

Lorna tilted her head back at him, her grip on his hands tightened, first shocked, and then curious, but not mad. Somehow it didn’t surprise her, of course he knew. He was as much a part of her as she was of him.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Lorna asked, taken aback. “ _How_?”

“Didn’t you know that besides being incredibly good looking, I can also read minds?” Marcos waggled his eyebrows at her, now grinning like a loon. Lorna, not as amused at his terrible sense of humor as he was, elbowed him in retaliation. He chuckled, but also grimaced, properly chastised. “I’m kidding. I only knew because of Strucker, when we were trying to find a way to get to you.”

“Strucker?” Lorna smoldered at the mere thought of the man, and she remembered that day in the holding cell, when he’d handed her the damnable piece of paper that changed everything in an instant. “Were you that desperate?” Lorna mused aloud, envisioning the man responsible not only for her incarceration, but hundreds of other mutants deemed too dangerous to exist, all threats to humanity according to a world that hated them. Her temper reared it’s ugly head again, and she hoped the screws she pulled out of his knee left Reed Strucker with a permanent limp. 

She would not blame Marcos though, and he knew this. He also knew she would have done the same if the roles were reversed, he knew they both would have died trying. Her worries turned elsewhere though, and she bit her lip out of nervous habit. If her hands had not been tangled in his, she would have instinctively reached for her stomach.

“Does anyone else know?”

“Of course not,” Marcos shook his head, surprised that she would think that, hurt at the assumption he’d even think about betraying her trust, “I wasn’t going to say anything until you told me, until you said it was ok, because it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Marcos had never presumed to speak for her, or to let anyone else think that he did. He never ceased to amaze her with his complete faith in her, or his selflessness. His first immediate reaction in any situation was always to do what was best for the other person, to always protect those in need, even if it ended up hurting him.

“Why are you so good to me?”

It was an honest question, with an honest answer.

“Because I love you.”

Lorna turned in his grasp, the water in waves around her as her knees found purchase on the smooth bottom of the tub. She leaned forward with care, framing his face in her hands, and the kiss she placed on his lips was strong, sure, an answer for this devout man who’s loyalty and love she wasn’t sure she deserved. He reached for her hair, tangling his hands in the dark, emerald strands, water running in rivulets down his arms. She eased into his lap, settling into the cradle of his legs until they were chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

“I would do anything to keep you safe, do you realize that?” Marcos ran his hand down her back, gently warming her as it went, his eyes brighter, _happier_. “I would turn the entire world to ash if that’s what it took.”

“For both of us?” Lorna wondered allowed.

“For both of you,” Marcos repeated, kissing her again, his hands traveling from her back to the flat of her stomach, to the slight rise and the angry bruises that weren’t there before, and the baby hidden somewhere beneath them. 

Her mind drifted back to their bedroom just hours before. Their love making then had been gentle, a slow and steady welcoming home, but now was different. Now, Marcos intended to claim her, and she would gladly let him. His teeth grazed her lips, his tongue insistent as it parted her mouth, his hands more so. Lorna’s body quivered above his, driven by a need as deep and hungry as the kiss itself. She needed _him_. She shifted her hips just so, pushing against him, aware of the way his eyes seemed to darken, the way he looked at her, as if he were determined to have every last part of her all to himself. Her hands reached between them, finding him hard beneath her touch. Looking at him she wondered, as she often did, if it were possible to ever have enough of him. 

The answer was no.

Lorna shifted again, gasping against his mouth, and Marcos groaned as she slowly sank down onto him, the aurora lights brighteningin a burst of color that danced in waves around them. 

“We don’t have black out curtains in here,” Marcos reminded her, one hand on her hip, the other traveling from her neck, to her breasts. The barest edges of his fingers glowed as he traced patterns of light over each one, then her sternum, and then lower. He was trying to be funny, again, at the worst possible moment. Lorna rolled her eyes at his attempt to be reasonable, rocking her hips into his to make her intent clear. She was not the least bit concerned about anyone else, only them.

“I hope they enjoy the light show.”

Marcos laughed at that, a sound so pure and true and good that she almost couldn’t stand it, nor could she remember the last time she’d heard it. He beamed at her, his smile just as bright and brilliant as the light he wielded, except more so. _He_ was brilliant—this incredible man, the father of her child, the only person who had ever really understood her. The only person she had ever really loved. 

“Are you sure?” He asked more seriously, already breathless, both hands moving to her hips, holding her still for just a moment. Lorna moved against him in answer, insistent. 

When she nodded, he said nothing more.

The water lapped around them, still perfectly warm, and Lorna thanked herself for making sure she’d demanded a _large_ clawfoot when they’d renovated their small bathroom apartment. He had always accepted her ludicrous interior design challenges with more composure than one man should have been capable up, but it was one of the many reasons she loved him. Marcos began to match the gentle roll of her hips with his own, their skin and the water cast in the opal glow of the aurora that spun and glimmered and grew as he deepened each stroke, his fingers digging into her hips, hers raking across his shoulder blades. 

Their pace quickened, and Marcos' mouth moved to her neck, his teeth leaving trails from chin to collar bone, while one hand reached between her legs. The light seemed to build with them, a torrent of color that saturated the world around them until finally, all too quickly, Lorna could feel herself falling apart. Her legs began to weaken and give, the sensation of him inside her, all around her, became too much—completely overwhelmed by him, she finally broke.

Her hands grasped at his back for purchase, her nails leaving angry red trails in their wake, and she gasped into his shoulder, her cry of pleasure muffled by her mouth against his skin. Marcos thrust once, then twice, and at last a third time before he followed her, the light show flaring in one last blaze of blinding brightness, the water around them wild and then suddenly still. The aurora faded, transforming to an invisible shimmer that looped and floated around them in a heady daze as they collapsed into each others arms. They rested against one another in a tangle of limbs, neither willing to separate themselves from the other.

Marcos reached up, smoothed her hair back from her face with one hand, the other steady against her back as he leaned them backward against the tub. Lorna reveled in the heaviness of her limbs, of her body humming with contentment in the afterglow, pressed against his. She was content to stay there for as long as he would let her. She finally managed to pick her head up to give him one more lazy, sated kiss, just for good measure. 

“I love you, Lorna,” every time he said it, it breathed new life into her. His hands fell once more to her stomach, and she could feel his smile against her lips, “I love _both_ of you.”

“Not just one?” Lorna teased gently, her arms looped around his neck, and Marcos grinned back.

“Not just one,” he echoed.

“Marcos?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you too, both of you.”

Later that night, curled up beside him in bed in the space made perfectly for her, Lorna listened to Marcos’s steady breathing. It was the kind that came with a deep, peaceful sleep. He was so still, and so beautiful. Her legs threaded through his, and her head rested against his shoulder, never close enough. Her hand rested against his chest, his heartbeat strong beneath her finger tips, his body warm where she pressed herself into his side, their baby safely between them. Despite her fears, her very real worries for the future, for the child they would bring into it, Lorna felt at ease for the first time in weeks. 

Every good thing Lorna had was because of Marcos. Her love for him spanned further than light could reach, and was stronger than any magnetosphere. She would rest easy knowing that this man—who loved her more than he should, more than himself—had enough love for not just one of them, but both.

The gentle glow of the aurora hovered over them, a welcome reminder that phenomena manifested not only in science, but in life as well, just like now. Just like them.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: thanks for reading y'all. I am sooo rusty it's been forever and a day since I've written something quite this extensive. I've also never used my a03 account so here's to hoping I didn't fuck something up lol. The characters are new to me, so I'm still trying to learn their emotional inflections, tendencies, et cetera. I hope this will make some Eclaris fans happy, and do them both justice. TBH I really want the show to explore Lorna's bipolar disorder, and the struggles that come with having a sometimes extremely debilitating mental disorder. I say this as a friend of several diagnosed bipolar individuals, as well as someone that struggles with depression myself. ANYWHO, thanks for the reads, and drop a comment/kudos if you feel so compelled. xo


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